


four hearts cradled in her small palms

by YaelaTheWordsmith



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Multi, Sickfic, Slice of Life, a snapshot of Hitoka's domestic life with her four boys, but they're all equally in love!!!!!, kinda yachi centric so I tagged them all with her, listen i know u probably never considered this ship before but it's so damn cute trust me, they're all in love and they're all so soft for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28918479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaelaTheWordsmith/pseuds/YaelaTheWordsmith
Summary: Kenma is sick and Tetsurou's had to stay home to take care of him, Koutarou is away and Keiji's been working overtime, and Hitoka simply can't help worrying. If she doesn't take care of them, who will?The answer, of course, is that they'll take care of each other - and of her.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou/Yachi Hitoka, Akaashi Keiji/Yachi Hitoka, Bokuto Koutarou/Yachi Hitoka, Kozume Kenma/Yachi Hitoka, Kuroo Tetsurou/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 20
Kudos: 66





	four hearts cradled in her small palms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HaruK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaruK/gifts).



> aaaaaaaaaa this was meant for last year, I'm so so sorry it took so long >.< happy birthday, babe!!!! I hope you enjoy this long due fluffiness and that you have the best day ever ^.^
> 
> [lys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishascanbe/pseuds/bookishascanbe), thank you for the speedy beta!!

Hitoka knocks on the open door, careful not to let too much light in as she peers into the dark room. “Kenma, hey,” she says softly. “Are you awake?”

The huddled figure on the bed shifts slightly, rustling the blankets, which she takes as permission to go and sit by the pillows. She brushes Kenma’s hair away from his forehead, resting the back of her hand against his skin.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

Kenma cracks one eye open. “Not better,” he mumbles.

“Mm, you’re still running a fever.” She runs a gentle hand through his hair. “Do you think you could eat something?”

“Not hungry.”

“Are you sure?”  
  
“Mhm.”

“Okay. Do you need me to get you anything?”

His eye closes again. “Tetsu already made me take a paracetamol. And I think he left a bottle of water.”

“He did, it’s right here on the desk. What about a fever pad?”

Kenma’s nose wrinkles. “I don't like how they feel.”

He’s slurring, his voice getting quieter and quieter, so Hitoka doesn’t push it. “Okay, but if your temperature hasn’t dropped by tomorrow could you wear one?”

His only response is a faint hum. Hitoka sits with him, stroking his hair until the faint frown between his eyebrows is smoothed out by sleep, before she slips back outside. Tetsurou is curled up on the sofa, squinting at his laptop screen, but he looks up when she walks into the living room.

“How’s he doing?”

“He doesn’t seem much better, he was still using all the blankets.”

“D’you think we should get him to go to the doctor?”

“If he isn’t better by this time tomorrow, I think so.” She sits on the arm of the sofa, letting Tetsurou lean his head on her shoulder. “How was your day?”

“Mm, I got a lot further on that article I have to submit on Friday. Got a bunch of cleaning done, too, Keiji’ll be happy.”

“That’s great,” she smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. “Did Kenma sleep most of the day?”

“He did, but kind of restlessly, he only really dropped off in the evening,” he says, yawning. “Kept me busy calling for stuff most of the day, he was pretty uncomfortable. Should I get started on dinner, or do we wait for Keiji?”

“I’ll do it,” she says, getting to her feet. “You look tired.”

“Hey, I’m fine -”

“You look tired,” she says, a little more firmly, and smiles when he makes a face at her. “Take a nap or something, okay?”

“Fine. We should have some chopped vegetables left over from yesterday in the fridge, I think.”

“Got it.”

They do have vegetables left over, but it’s not enough for dinner even with Kenma not eating and Koutarou not home, so she washes a few more and sits down to cut them. It’s peaceful in the quiet apartment, Tetsurou’s eventual soft snores from the sofa keeping her company as she steadily slices through piles of bell pepper and garlic and tomato. Keiji gets home a little earlier than he’s been able to for a while, which is nice, and he joins her at the kitchen table once he’s changed into home clothes and tiptoed in to check on Kenma.

“He’s still sleeping,” he tells Hitoka before she asks, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek before picking up the plate of carrots. “How’s he been?”

“Tetsu said he was pretty restless the whole day . . . we were thinking of going to the doctor if he isn’t better by tomorrow evening.”

“Mm, he won’t like that much.”

She kicks his shin gently under the table, but can’t quite hide her smile. “You’re too soft on him, Keiji.”

“Hm. Says the one who spent a quarter of her monthly salary on that fancy new game for him.”

“Hey, I’m tough when he needs it! Making him happy is a different thing.”

Keiji’s slate-blue eyes are warm in the kitchen light as he smiles back at her. “He was very happy, that’s true.”

Hitoka tucks her foot comfortably behind his calf, smiling back. “Tetsu can’t keep taking days off to stay home, anyway. And Koutarou is even worse than you at indulging Kenma, I don’t want those two to be home alone together if Kenma is still sick by the time he’s back. We’d probably come back to find Kenma buried in a mountain of pillows and junk food he absolutely should _not_ be eating when he’s sick. It’d be best if he goes to the doctor as soon as he needs to.”

“That’s fair, yes. Tetsu was looking tired, too.”

She makes a wry face. “You’re one to talk, Keiji. When was the last time you looked in a mirror?”

His knife pauses as he looks at her, amused. “Having sick Kenma to fuss over really makes you bossy, huh?”

“I’m not being bossy,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him. “Unfortunately I’m the only one in this house with both common sense and the ability to be firm with Kenma. And you. And Tetsurou.”

“And Koutarou,” he chuckles, getting up to get another bowl to tip the chopped carrot into. “You keep us all in line, love. I’ll take a week off next month, okay?”

“Okay.” Hitoka smiles down at her knife. She’ll never quite get used to Keiji’s rare endearments, to the way they make brief little butterflies flutter in her stomach, and she knows he knows how much they mean to her.

He knows that, and so much more. He sets the bowl down, but instead of sitting down again, he leans over her from behind her chair to gently grasp her wrists, stopping her from cutting.

“Keiji?”

“Miss Bossy only turns up when you’re worried and trying not to show it,” he says, resting his chin on the top of her head as he rubs her knuckles with his thumbs. “Kenma’s going to be fine, okay?”

“Yeah . . .” She leans back into his chest, closing her eyes tight for a second. “Yeah, just - he never gets sick, and he hates it so much, and what if it turns out to be something more serious than just a fever -”

“Hitoka,” he murmurs.

“I know,” she sighs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise for worrying.” He kisses the side of her head. “We’re going to take care of him, and he’ll be better before Koutarou comes home.”

He says it so simply, calm and assured, and it’s so easy to believe him. “Yeah,” she agrees gratefully, pressing her cheek against his. “He’ll be better tomorrow.”

And he is. Keiji coaxes him to eat some buttered toast in the morning, and when Hitoka gets back from work, she finds Tetsurou in a chair by Kenma’s bed, cheerfully telling him some nonsense story about his boss’s kids while Kenma gives him the most sceptical look he can manage from the depths of Koutarou’s ratty college sweatshirt.

“Hey, Hitoka!” Tetsurou says cheerfully when she walks in. “His fever’s gone down a lot.”

“Oh, thank god,” she beams, kneeling on the floor by Kenma’s head. “That’s great, Kenma. How are you feeling?”

“Still sick,” he says, letting her intertwine her fingers with his. “I feel more like eating today, though.”

“We’ll make you whatever you want, sweetie.”

“Yep, gotta get you strong for Kou,” Tetsurou says, resting his chin on her shoulder. “What are you up for? And chips better not be on the menu.”

Kenma had opened his mouth, but he closes it and frowns at Tetsurou. “Chips can’t do me that much harm.”

“Can’t help much either.”

“But -”

“When you’re better,” Hitoka says quickly, squeezing Kenma’s hand. “But for now let’s stick to more nutritious stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” Kenma mumbles. “Um . . . soup, then. Hitoka’s pumpkin one.”

“Sure! I’ll go to the grocery store and get some.”

“Keiji can pick it up on his way home,” Tetsurou says, already fishing for his phone. “Lemme text him -”

“It’s fine, Tetsu,” Hitoka says quickly. “We need a bunch of stuff anyway, and I really don’t mind going.”

“You sure?”

“Yep!” She gets to her feet, meeting Tetsurou’s slightly curious look with a firm smile. “I’ll go in like twenty minutes.”

“You can go with her,” Kenma says. “I won’t die if I’m left alone for an hour, you know.”

Hitoka laughs, and Tetsurou snorts. “I have zero faith in you. You’d probably end up lying in the hallway because you tripped and fell trying to find your Switch or something, and we’d come back to find a comatose Kenma roll in the middle of the house, grumbling about being abandoned.”

“I can’t grumble if I’m comatose,” Kenma snaps, but his mouth is twitching. “Just give me my Switch and go.”

“Fine, fine. Call if you need anything, okay?”

“Ugh, go already,” Kenma says, and rolls over as they laugh at him.

So Hitoka and Tetsurou go to the store, picking up enough groceries to last them two weeks. It’s nice, Hitoka thinks, pushing the shopping cart as Tetsurou browses through rows of cereal for Koutarou’s favourite. They haven’t done this in a while, just the two of them, Tetsurou keeping up an idle running commentary the whole time - _hey look, a new kind of those shrimp chips that Koutarou likes, that kid is definitely going to topple over the apples, do you think Kenma would throw his Switch at us if we bought him a cat toy to keep him occupied, do you think Keiji would like this shampoo, who the heck invented popcorn flavoured lip balm, did that lady just sniff a roll of toilet paper?_ \- while Hitoka laughs and teases back and the cart gets closer and closer to overflowing.

It’s so easy to forget about how stressful work had been lately, about if Kenma might be getting antsy waiting for them, about her guilt at Tetsurou being the one who’s had to stay home these past few days - she can forget it all with Tetsurou’s deep voice whispering to her about how weird the moustache of the good natured, balding cashier is and forcing her to choke back her giggles. He has this way of making the world slow and settle around him just with his words, with just the hint of his lazy smile, and Hitoka is always, always grateful for it.

“Hey,” he says, half-surprised, when she sets her bags down in the parking lot of the store to slip her arms around his waist and hug him tight. His chuckle is a low rumble in his chest, right under her cheek, as he gently squeezes her back. “What’s up, ‘Toka?”

“Nothing,” she smiles, reaching up to kiss where his shoulder becomes his collarbone. “I’m glad you came.”

“Aww, honey,” he says, ruffling her hair gently. “We’ve been so caught up worrying about Kenma we forgot to worry about you, hm?”

“Hey,” she laughs, pushing his hand away. “I don’t need to be worried about!”

“That’s our brave girl,” he smiles, nudging her with his hip as she picks up her bags again. “But things haven’t been the best at work, am I right?”

“Creative block,” she sighs, falling into step with him. “But it’ll be fine.”

“ ‘Course it will,” he agrees, sure and steady. “You’re great at what you do, sweetie.”

“Flatterer,” she says, but her cheeks are warm with pleasure.

They take their time walking back, their conversation warm and lightly teasing, and get home to find Kenma slumped at the table waiting for them. “I wanna watch you guys cook,” he mutters when they blink at finding him out of bed. “I’m sick of lying in that room.”

“Okay, but go take a bath first, it’s been like three days,” Tetsurou says, slipping effortlessly into mother hen mode. “And if you’re going to hang around when we cook you need to be wearing a mask or you’ll infect all of us, idiot. You should be wearing a mask anyway, actually, what happened to the one I gave you?”

“Shouldn’t all the germs die when they’re cooked anyway?” Kenma grumbles, reluctantly allowing Tetsurou to tug him off the chair. “The mask is probably under the bed or something, I don’t know.”

“You’re lucky Keiji isn’t here to hear that,” Tetsurou says, prodding him towards the bathroom. “Shoo. Don’t make me bathe you.”

“I’m not five, god.”

“Well, you’re sure acting like it -”

“Tetsu, help me put the groceries away, please,” Hitoka says, interrupting them with the ease of long practice. “Kenma, put Koutarou’s sweatshirt in the washing machine with the other laundry when you're done, okay? He’ll probably want it tomorrow.”

Tetsurou flashes her an appreciative grin as he steps back, letting Kenma head inside in peace, and comes to her side to unpack everything they bought and start on dinner. By the time Kenma comes back and rests his chin on his folded arms to watch them, smelling of fresh soap and mask firmly in place, their big pressure cooker is half filled with cubes of neatly diced pumpkin.

Keiji can’t make it early tonight, but keeping up a light flow of chatter with Tetsurou - with the occasional murmured comment from Kenma - keeps Hitoka distracted enough that it seems like no time at all before he’s walking into the kitchen, dropping a kiss on Kenma’s head and smiling at Hitoka and Tetsurou before he goes to change and wash up.

He’s kind of quiet when he comes back, in that way he gets when he’s low on energy and doesn’t want to show it. Tetsurou exchanges a look with Hitoka before firmly steering Keiji to the seat next to Kenma, putting Kenma’s head on his shoulder, and forbidding him from moving.

“We’re doing fine on our own,” he says, when Keiji protests that he wants to help. “You keep Kenma company and let us do the work, yeah?”

They all know he’s not really asking, and Kenma nuzzles closer with a kind of quiet sigh, so Keiji concedes gracefully and puts an arm around Kenma’s shoulders to hold him close. Hitoka pauses in the process of tipping the steamed pumpkin out of the pressure cooker and into the blender to lean over and kiss his cheek as consolation. She misses by a little, catching his cheekbone just below his eye, and Tetsurou has to grab her wrist before she loses her balance and drops the pressure cooker onto her foot.

“ _Hitoka_ ,” Tetsurou and Keiji say together, Tetsurou exasperated, Keiji torn between concern and laughter. She blushes, lets Tetsurou take it from her, and lets Keiji tug her in gently by the waist to tuck her into his side as well.

“Be more careful,” he murmurs into her hair.

“Dumbass,” Tetsurou grumbles, dumping the last of the pumpkin into the blender.

“Sorry,” she says sheepishly, laying her cheek on Keiji’s free shoulder.

“Keiji, you stole my co-chef!”

“All you have to do is blend it and add seasoning.” Keiji smiles at Tetsurou’s mock scowl. “Surely you can manage that on your own?”

“You’re the worst,” Tetsurou sighs, but he goes to grab the salt nevertheless. “Why d’you get to keep the cutest people in the house all to yourself?”

Kenma makes a disgruntled sound into Keiji’s neck, Hitoka bites her lip so she doesn't laugh, and Keiji grins, sudden and cat-like.

“Maybe they just like me best,” he says demurely. Tetsurou tries to give him his dirtiest look as he switches the blender on, but Hitoka smiles at him with a crinkle of her nose and he laughs in defeat.

The soup is ready in minutes, Hitoka leaving Keiji’s side to help Tetsurou plate up for them all. They’re none of them very energetic now, and so they eat in relative, comfortable silence. Kenma stays curled against Keiji, eating the slowest, going minutes at a time just resting against his shoulder with half-shut eyes.

“I got it,” Hitoka says after Keiji has had to nudge him to keep eating for the third time, reaching out to take both his and Keiji’s bowls. “Go rest, Kenma.”

It’s a testament to how tired and weak he feels that he nods without a word of protest, murmuring good night and letting Keiji lead him to the bedroom. Keiji smiles at her over his head before they leave, slight and warm, and she’s left with Tetsurou to do the washing up. They’re done fairly soon, and she’s just setting the last bowl on the draining board to dry when he slides his arms around her waist from behind and rests his chin on top of her head.

“Hey,” she says softly, resting a hand on his clasped ones.

He only hums in response, a warm and solid presence behind her. She can tell from the tone of it that he’s got his eyes closed, that he’s in what Koutarou calls his lazy cat mode.

“Something wrong?”

He makes a sound of denial, a quiet “Mm-mm,” still hugging her close like a child with a teddy bear. So she pulls his arms a little tighter around her, turning her head so her ear is pressed right over his heartbeat, his chest rising and falling as he breathes, and breathes with him.

He stirs after a while - maybe five minutes, maybe ten - shifting to rub his cheek lightly against her hair. “Just wanted to hold you for a bit,” he murmurs by way of belated explanation. “I missed Kou, these past few days.”

“I know,” she murmurs back. “Me too, Tetsu.”

“You wanna stay up for him with me?”

“You’re going to stay up?” Hitoka turns to give him a searching look, and he smiles down at her.

“I napped during the day, sweetie. I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure,” she says, not quite convinced, and he squeezes her waist briefly.

“A hundred percent.”

So they settle together on the couch with their laptops, Hitoka with her legs resting in Tetsurou’s lap. Keiji comes out of the bedroom a couple of hours later, letting them know Kenma took another paracetamol before dropping off to sleep, and kisses them good night before going to bed himself.

Their living room is hushed as the hands of the clock move steadily, the only sound that of their keyboard keys. Tetsurou must be on the last stretch of his article - Hitoka can see the light of his screen flickering on the lenses of his glasses as he hops between tabs, probably in the tedious process of citing all his references. When he doesn’t need both hands to type he leaves a hand on one of her ankles, rubbing absent circles with his thumb, only realising he’s doing it when she wriggles her toes against his stomach in retaliation and makes him chuckle.

He closes his laptop a few minutes before midnight, stretching out with a yawn before getting up to pad to the bathroom. He’ll be back in a minute, he says, and Hitoka is so involved in her own work that she doesn’t realise he hasn’t come back until nearly twenty minutes later.  
  
“Tetsu?” she calls softly in the direction of the bedroom, but there’s no answer. She gets up to check, going to the bedroom and peeking past the door. Kenma and Keiji are facing each other, sleeping on their sides, only a handful of inches between them. Kenma has half the blankets on the bed tucked around him, and Keiji -

\- Keiji has Tetsurou snoring quietly behind him, sleeping with his hands tucked close to his chest and his forehead pressed against Keiji’s back.

A sweet pang goes through Hitoka’s chest as she takes in the way he’s curled up to fit into the space between Keiji and the edge of the bed, the way he’s left all of the blanket on Keiji except for a corner that he’s tugged over his feet, the slow, easy rise and fall of his chest despite the fact that he usually takes up twice as much space when he sleeps. He probably thought he’d lie down with Keiji for a minute or two, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the bed.

 _Idiot,_ she thinks affectionately, unfolding another blanket and pulling it up till his shoulders before dropping a brief kiss at his temple.

Tetsurou stirs with a mumble, burrowing closer to Keiji, and Hitoka slips away, not wanting to wake him. She heads back to the living room, switching off all the lights on the way so the living room is lit only by the gentle yellow glow of the little lamp on their coffee table, and settles back down to work. She’s almost through with the worst of her project, and if she can just keep at it till she’s done, she’ll be able to leave it alone the whole of tomorrow and enjoy her Saturday knowing she’s done her best.

So she works, the night light on her laptop turned all the way up and the brightness turned all the way down, forcing her weary eyelids to stay open, telling herself _just a little more, just ten more minutes_. But ten minutes become twenty, then thirty, and it’s only at 1:50 AM that she finally shuts her laptop down with a sigh of relief. Koutarou will be home in about forty minutes, and she should stay awake for him, but it can’t hurt to rest her head on the back of the sofa and close her eyes for a second . . .

Then there’s the click of the front door opening, and she jerks upright, whirling around to look at the clock. 2:34 AM, and Koutarou is a broad figure made broader by the puffy jacket he’s wearing, his smile bright and warm as he slips his shoes off in the genkan.

“Hey, ‘Toka!”

“Hi! Oh my god, hi -” Hitoka gets to her feet and hurries to him, sleep still clinging to her eyes and tripping up her feet. Koutarou catches her easily, banishing her clumsiness in an instant as he picks her up and twirls her around, making her laugh with delight as she hugs him tight.

“Didja miss me?” he grins, setting her down and squeezing her cheeks affectionately between his thumb and forefinger.

“Of course I missed you,” she says, mock-pouting, not quite managing it with how wide she’s smiling, with how she’s wavering on tiptoe to keep her arms around his neck. “We all missed you.”

“Aww -” He swoops down to kiss her nose, then her mouth, sweet and playful. “But you were the only one who stayed up for me, hm?”

“Come on, they were tired - Tetsu’s been waking up some nights for Kenma, and Keiji’s hours have been running late recently -”

“I know, sweetie, I’m kidding,” he laughs, loud enough that it echoes down the hall. She hastily puts a hand over his mouth, giving him a reproving look that makes him wince.

“Don’t wake them, Kou.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers against her palm. She removes her hand, and he kisses her wrist in apology. “I’ll be quiet. Thanks for staying up when you’ve been busy too.”

“Don’t be silly.” She cradles his face in both hands and reaches up to kiss him properly, letting the strong, steady arms around her waist take most of her weight. Koutarou hums into her mouth, nuzzling into her cheek when she reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“I want to try to come with you, next time,” she says softly, the words pressed against the line of his jaw. “You looked wonderful on TV - you always do - but I wanna watch from the stands.”

He lights up, delight dancing in his eyes. “We’d win in two straight sets if you were there,” he says, leaning back to beam at her. “You and everyone else, we could - it could be a holiday! For all of you! And we could travel around together, and you could meet my team and everyone, and -”

He breaks off as she tries to hide a yawn, and sets her back down on her feet carefully. “And we can talk about it in the morning,” he grins, bending to pick up his traveling bag. “Lemme go wash up and we can go to bed, yeah?”

“Sorry,” she chuckles, hugging his arm and walking inside with him. “Is it okay if we sleep in the guest room? The others have kinda taken over the big bed . . . “

“Of course, that means I get you all to myself!”

“Kou, come on,” she laughs, a little shyly. “I left your toothbrush and stuff in the guest bathroom, and there’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“Nah, I grabbed some stuff at the airport, I’m okay.” He nudges his hip against her as they enter the guest room, tipping her off balance just enough so she sits down on the bed with a thump.

“Hey! What -”

Koutarou ducks to press a kiss to her cheek before he bends to grab her ankles, grinning impishly, and yanks upwards so she’s flipped onto her back

“ _Kou_ -” Hitoka is laughing so hard she’s too breathless to speak, sprawled against the pillows.

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” he says, leaning over her to press another kiss to her forehead, another to her cheek, another to the ticklish arch of her throat that makes her struggle to hold back giggles. “ _Exactly_ five minutes. Get comfy, ‘kay?”

Hitoka looks up at him, braced over her - looking at her like _she’s_ the sun when he’s the one who’s always been their bright and beating heart - and couldn’t stop grinning if she was given the world. She reaches up to cup his cheek in one hand, and - if it was Tetsurou she’d get teased for this mercilessly, if it was Kenma she’d receive nothing but a blush and an embarrassed huff, and if it was Keiji he’d get shy and hide his face in lieu of answering, but this is Koutarou, so -

“But how can I get comfy without you?” she says, letting her voice lilt higher, looking at him through exaggeratedly lowered lashes, trying _so_ hard to tone the smile down a little and failing entirely.

Koutarou muffles his laughter with one hand, eyes crinkled small from how hard he’s smiling. “Aww, honey,” he says, mimicking her cutesy voice, “I’ll be right back, and you’ll be so comfy you’ll fall asleep in a _second_ , ‘cuz I’m gonna snuggle you _so_ hard, you’re totally gonna forget I ever wasn’t here -”

Hitoka has the heels of both palms pressed valiantly to her mouth, and still her whole body is shaking with laughter. “Go,” she gasps, blinking tears out of one eye. “Oh god, you’re the sweetest - most ridiculous -”

“You started it!” he laughs, and leaves a last kiss on the tip of her nose before finally standing up to go to the bathroom.

Hitoka falls asleep some ten minutes later with his arm tucked warmly around her waist, his body curved perfectly around hers, and doesn’t wake until the curtain-filtered sun is strong enough to warm her skin. He’s not there then, but once she’s washed the sleep out of her eyes and brushed her teeth, she goes to the door to see -

\- him in the kitchen with Kenma, who’s perched on one of the barstools. The frilly pink apron he’d once bought Keiji as a gag gift is tied around his waist perfectly, and he’s gesturing excitedly with a spatula as he tells Kenma a story about one of his teammates, mindful enough of the volume of his voice to bring it back down every time it rises. Kenma is listening with his chin propped in one hand and the other buried in the pocket of one of Tetsurou’s heavy hoodies, his hair tied back from his face, looking tired and indulgent. As Hitoka watches, Koutarou turns to the stove to deftly flip a pancake out of the pan and slides the plate over to Kenma, never losing the thread of his story.

 _Oh -_ A lump is swelling in Hitoka’s throat, and she doesn’t know why except - god, she’s so, so glad he’s home.

Koutarou catches sight of her just then, and interrupts himself to blow her a kiss from across the kitchen. “Morning, princess!”

“Good morning,” she smiles back, going to Kenma so he can lean his head on her shoulder and put an arm around her waist. “You’re up early, Kou, I thought you’d be sleeping till lunch.”

“Nah, the jet lag is messing with me, I couldn’t really sleep after five in the morning. So I figured -” He gestures to the kitchen counter, which is littered with the debris of the making of pancake batter. “Kenma was saying, before I left, that he hadn’t had pancakes for a while, and I thought it would help him get better quicker! I always get better quick when I have yummy food.”

Kenma sighs softly in Hitoka’s ear, a sigh that says _You’re a freak of nature, Koutarou_ as clearly as if he’d said the words, and Hitoka giggles despite herself. “It looks delicious,” she says, raising a hand to press to Kenma’s forehead. “And how are you feeling?”

“Much better,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth tilting as he leans into her hand.

His skin is cool to the touch, and Hitoka kisses the top of his head with relief. He squeezes her waist slightly, picking up his fork with his free hand and making a plaintive noise in Koutarou’s general direction. Koutarou grins over his shoulder, already opening the fridge.

“Maple syrup or chocolate? Or strawberry jam?”

“Chocolate, please.”

“Here ya go! ‘Toka, just gimme like two minutes and I’ll fix a plate for you, okay?”

“Sure, there’s no hurry. Do you want me to help? We should be cooking for you, instead of the other way around -”

“No, I want to! I -”

He breaks off, grin getting impossibly brighter as he looks past Hitoka. She turns to see Keiji and Tetsurou walking to the kitchen, both in worn T-shirts and sweatpants, Tetsurou with his arms wrapped around Keiji’s shoulders from behind and his feet dragging so Keiji has to slow to bear his weight.

“Hey, Kou,” he smiles, blinking sleepily. His hair is a rat’s nest, the stretched-out collar of his shirt nearly slipping off one shoulder. “I tried to wait up for ya, didn’t mean to doze off.”

“Good morning, Koutarou.” Keiji’s smile is warm, even through the expression of long-suffering he’s wearing. “You’re up early.”

“Hi, Tetsu, Keiji! Yeah, I couldn’t sleep! And don’t worry about it, Tetsu, it’s totally fine -” The spatula is set down without a second thought as Kotarou runs to hug them.

“It’s so good to see you, fuck,” Tetsurou sighs, reaching around Keiji to hug him back.

“Guys, please,” Keiji wheezes, squeezed tight between the both of them.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Koutarou laughs, letting go. He cups Keiji’s face in both hands to tilt it up for a kiss, and Keiji winds an arm around his shoulders as he kisses back, smiling.

Tetsurou makes a sound that’s half whine and half grumble, reaching out to tug at Koutarou’s sleeve. Koutarou is chuckling as he breaks his kiss with Keiji, murmuring “Yeah, yeah, I've got you,” as he slides a hand into his hair to pull him in for a kiss too.

“Hitoka,” Kenma says, and she tears her eyes away from them to give him an enquiring look. He nods to the stove, where Koutarou has left the flame on high.

“Oh -” She hurries to turn it down, wincing at the burnt smell, and flips the pancake over. There’s no saving it, really, but she might as well cook the other side at least halfway so it’s a solid mess and not a semi-solid mess.

There’s a quiet laugh, and she looks over her shoulder to see Kenma smiling, eyes clear and bright-gold.

“What?’ she says, smiling back.

“Just -” He shakes his head a little. “I’m glad.”

Which, coming from him, Hitoka knows means _I’m glad I have you, all of you._

In the living room, Koutarou has an arm around Tetsurou’s waist and his nose pressed to his hair as he says something probably outrageous - and undoubtedly flirtatious - in his ear, grinning teeth bright against Tetsurou’s skin as Tetsurou throws back his head to laugh. Koutarou’s other hand is holding one of Keiji’s, their fingers intertwined tight, and Keiji is watching the two of them with an indulgent smile. He catches Hitoka looking and winks at her, a twinkle in his dark eyes.

“Yeah.” Hitoka smiles, her heart singing in her chest, full of love that’s as light and free as the dazzling sunlight caught in Kenma’s hair. “Yeah, Kenma. Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you very much for reading! feedback and constructive criticism is always very much appreciated <3 You can find me [here](https://yaelathewordsmith.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr and [here](https://twitter.com/writer_yaela) on Twitter just to chat or for commission info :)


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